


all the triumph overhead (all the disaster underneath)

by bechloehuh, chloebeale (bechloehuh)



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies), Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Chloe-centric - Freeform, F/F, bechloe endgame, red dead redemption au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-24 03:59:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17697236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bechloehuh/pseuds/bechloehuh, https://archiveofourown.org/users/bechloehuh/pseuds/chloebeale
Summary: By 1899, the age of outlaws and gunslingers was at an end. America was becoming a land of laws. Even the west had mostly been tamed. A few gangs still roamed but they were being hunted down and destroyed.(bechloe red dead redemption 2 au)





	all the triumph overhead (all the disaster underneath)

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly just the plot of Red Dead Redemption 2 told from Chloe’s perspective, with 2 major changes: Chloe is Dutch’s daughter, and Kieran is replaced by Beca. Major spoilers for RDR2. Don’t read if you plan on playing the game and don’t want to be spoiled. However, if you haven’t played, or you don’t plan on playing the game, you won’t really need to play it to understand.
> 
> A few more things:  
> \- This story is entirely Chloe's POV.  
> \- Most of the main characters of RDR2 will be present in this fic, and it will be following the story with a few changes here and there.  
> \- Other PP characters will pop up/be mentioned in the story, but this fic is based mostly on Beca and Chloe’s relationship, and their life with a gang of outlaws.  
> \- Beca will not have the same fate Kieran does in the game.  
> \- Saint Denis is pronounced ‘San Deh-Knee’
> 
> I also have a playlist that you can listen to [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/colevar/playlist/6MAvYFXi5oAXk4PQhjk63G?si=zoTWo1-pQK6eE9drAMFFrQ), if you'd like.
> 
> With that said, I hope you enjoy.

 

The snow is harsh against the side of Chloe’s face as she steps up into the wagon, with the help of Charles and Uncle. Tilly follows behind her, and then Emily, until eventually the wagon is full. It creaks beneath her, and she wonders if it’s strong enough to hold them all; wonders if the horses are strong enough to pull them along.

They’ve been on the run since they left Blackwater in a hurry. Her dad didn’t give much of an explanation other than “we have to leave, right now!” before ordering everybody to pack up. He was frantic and angry, and Chloe wasn’t sure if the blood on him was his or someone else’s. It wasn’t until a few minutes later, when the rest of the gang arrived on horseback - with a few wagons that Chloe doesn’t remember them taking with them - that Chloe realized how serious the situation was.

At first, Chloe assumed it was money in the wagons. She’s not sure what type of job it was, as she’s learned not to question her father. All she knows is that it always involves money. She figured it was a train heist.

(It’s _always_ a train heist.)

Clearly, it didn’t go to plan, though. Because it wasn’t money in the wagons, it was _bodies_. Bill and Javier had carried Davey over to the medical tent on a makeshift stretcher, ordering them to save him, and Chloe didn’t have time to question what had happened to cause the job to go so horribly wrong.

She and Emily treated Davey’s bullet wound, which Chloe knew was infected as soon as she saw it. Reverend Swanson stood by and prayed for him, but Chloe’s not sure it helped at all. Mr Pearson had packed up the food wagon before helping Mary-Beth and Karen pack up everything else, and there was so much chaos happening around her, with people wondering where Sean and Mac and a few others were, that Chloe could hardly concentrate on stitching up the wound properly.

It wasn’t until she’d finished that she looked around and noticed her usual medical assistant wasn’t with her.

“Jenny,” she’d said, turning to Davey. “Where’s Jenny?”

He was passed out, though, and nobody else seemed to be paying Chloe any attention.

Chloe’s eighteen. She’s not an idiot. She knows that if Jenny hadn’t returned with the others, then it meant she was either kidnapped or dead.

“Chloe?”

She’s pulled out of the flashbacks by the sound of her father’s voice, so gentle and caring despite current dire and stressful circumstances. The whistling of the wind through the gaps in the wagon is loud enough to almost drown out the sounds from outside, but she can always pick out his voice.

“Are you okay?” He asks her, and she nods, hugging her legs closer to her body.

“What happened in Blackwater, dad?”

Dutch opens his mouth to respond, but the sound of somebody yelling his name catches his attention.

“Arthur! Any luck?”

“I found a place where we can get some shelter! Let Davey rest, while he…”

She closes her eyes as the rest of the conversation gets lost to the wind and the snow.

* * *

The place Arthur leads them to is an old abandoned mining town, only a few minutes down the road that they were already heading down. Chloe’s pretty sure the sign said Cotton, or Colten, but she can’t be sure. It was hard to see anything through the raging storm.

Arthur’s hand in hers as he helps her down from the wagon makes her feel safe, as does the hand on her back as he ushers her into the cabin, out of the freezing cold.

She immediately rushes to the fireplace, pulling out a match from the box in her pocket and swiping it on her boot to light it. Her hands are shaking as she holds the match against the sticks, and she starts to get impatient after nothing happens. She can hear everybody filing into the cabin, one by one. She turns to watch Bill and Arthur bring Davey in on the stretcher, placing him onto the table after clearing off the empty cups and frozen, rotten food.

She turns back to the fire, sighing when she sees that the flame is out.

Miss Grimshaw starts to order people around, as usual, but she sounds cold and exhausted. Chloe would roll her eyes at her need to always be in charge, even when her father is around, but all she can focus on is getting this damn fire lit so they can actually warm up in here. She pulls another match out, swiping it on her boot once again.

The flame disappears immediately as a gust of wind sweeps over it, due to the door opening, and Chloe sighs. She takes a third one out of her pocket, holding it against her boot again.

“Hey.” She turns at the sound of Hosea’s voice, immediately calming at his soft, kind eyes. “I’ve got it,” he tells her, taking the match from her trembling fingers.

He swipes it against her boot and holds it against the dry twigs and sticks, before blowing on it and shuffling them around so the fire can spread. She watches in awe as the fire flickers to life, and she can feel him smiling at her when she holds her hands close to it to warm them up. The smile lingers for a moment before he leaves to light the rest of the candles and lanterns in the cabin.

Her eyes drift shut as the feeling starts to return to her fingers, and she’s about to turn to tell young Jack to come over here and warm up when she hears Abigail sigh.

“Davey’s dead."

She knows she shouldn’t blame herself, but she can’t help it. She was the one who removed the bullet. She was the one who stitched him up. She was the one who should’ve been quicker, more careful, more diligent.

“Chloe,” her father says, as she stands up. She knows his tone. It’s the way he said her name when he told her that Annabelle died just a few months ago. It’s the same tone he used when he told her about the feud he got into with the Posen family, resulting in Aubrey’s father’s death. It’s the same tone he used when he told her that they need to move _again_.

She knows the tone, so it shouldn’t surprise her when she feels _his_ arms around her, instead of Arthur’s or Karen’s, or anybody else who has stepped into the role of her guardian over the years.

She melts into his embrace, shivering as the melting snow from his jacket sticks to her skin. He holds her so tight but so gentle, it almost makes her forget that her father is a notorious killer with a bounty of five thousand dollars on his head.

“What are we gonna do?” Hosea asks, and Chloe finds herself shivering when her father pulls away from her. He stays close, though, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“You’re gonna stay here, and you’re gonna get yourself warm,” Dutch tells Hosea. “I sent John and Micah scouting out ahead. Arthur and I, we’re gonna ride out to see if we can find one of ‘em.”

“In this?” Arthur asks, just as Chloe says “wait, right now?”

It’s nice to know they’re both on the same page, but she learned a long time ago that when her dad has a plan, nothing will stop him from seeing it through. He turns to her, and she can see how cold he is with the way his breath is visible in the semi-dark cabin.

“I need to go find them.”

“Can’t Javier go?” she asks, because he and Charles have always been the best at tracking people. “At least get some sl–”

“–I have to do this, darling” he tells her, and she drops it, because he only ever calls her darling when he’s deadly serious.

* * *

Dutch leaves Susan Grimshaw and Mr Pearson in charge, and it doesn’t surprise her when Susan immediately starts barking orders. She tells Karen to help Pearson find food, and she tells Mary-Beth and Tilly to set up Dutch and Arthur’s cabin. When Susan turns to her, ready to bark an order at her, Chloe’s surprised to see her face soften.

It’s strange, seeing the woman she’s always known to be so uptight and bossy, look at her like she’s afraid she’s going to break her.

“Chloe, honey, would you be able to set up Arthur’s room?” Miss Grimshaw asks her. “His stuff is in the wagon outside, it’s the small cabin just opposite this one, in the room next to your father.”

All she can do is nod, hating the fact that she knows exactly why Susan is being so nice to her.

Her father always told her that death tends to bring people closer together.

It doesn’t take her too long to prepare Arthur’s room. It’s pretty small, consisting of just one small bed, a night stand and a chest to put his clothes in. He doesn’t have many belongings either, since most of them were lost to the fire a while back, before they had to relocate to Blackwater.

The sound of Mary-Beth and Tilly talking in her dad’s room as they prepare it for him and Miss O’Shea is drowned out when she steps outside into the cold. There’s one small box left, and she opens it to check if it’s her father’s or Arthur’s. It’s quickly proven to be Arthur’s when the first thing she sees is a framed photograph of Mary Linton. Chloe runs her fingers over the cracked glass, sighing before putting it back into the box and taking it inside.

It feels like a lifetime ago since she last saw Mary; since she last saw her uncle Arthur happy. She wonders how she’s doing, if she’s still alive, if Arthur has heard from her at all.

She’s sick of always _wondering_.

* * *

Dutch and Arthur return at nightfall, with Micah and a woman who Chloe’s never seen before.

She helps her down from the horse, quickly looking her over to see if she has any wounds that need tending to.

“Micah found a homestead, but he weren’t the first,” her father tells everybody as they crowd around him. “Colm O’Driscoll and his scum, they beat us to it. We found some of them there but there is more about apparently, scouting a train.”

There’s a tremor in his voice which Chloe knows means he’s cold and tired.

“We found some supplies, some blankets, a little bit of food, and this poor soul,” he places a hand on the woman’s shaking shoulders, “Mrs. Adler.” He coughs. “Miss Tilly, Miss Karen, would you please warm her up? Give her a drink of something.”

Lenny guides their horses away and into the stables, as Karen and Tilly lead Mrs. Adler into the cabin.

“They turned her into a widow,” her father says, accepting the hug that Miss O’Shea pulls him into.

“Where’s John?” Abigail asks.

“Haven’t seen him,” Micah answers for Dutch, and Chloe has to stop herself from glaring at him.

“We didn’t see John,” her father reiterates. “Everybody get inside, this storm is getting worse.” Dutch turns to Chloe, nudging her in the direction of the cabin. “Go on. I need some rest. I haven’t slept in three days.”

She’s about to head back inside when she feels a hand on her shoulder, and she turns to see Arthur looking down at her. He lifts his gloved hand up into view, and she smiles when she sees that he’s holding up a brown journal, similar to his.

“No way.”

“I ripped out the pages that already had stuff on them,” he tells her. “Just a bunch of recipes, so… It’s good as new.”

She hugs him, thanking him for the gift, and as usual, he pats her on the back and tells her that it was no problem at all. She knows that he knows how much the gift means to her though. She was devastated when she’d lost her previous journal in the fire.

“Now go, go get warm,” he tells her.

She watches Miss Grimshaw lead her father and Arthur to their cabin before she heads inside to find a pencil.

* * *

_Uncle Arthur found this journal for me, after my last one got ruined in the fire a few months back. I’ve missed writing, and drawing. Haven’t done it in a while. Been reading Treasure Island for the third time. It’s getting boring, but Jack loves it._

_We’ve been running for weeks. Spent the worst of the winter outside of Blackwater before another job went wrong and we had to move out again. Still not sure what the job was, though I heard talk from Arthur and Hosea about a ferry. They weren’t involved. Heard it was all Micah and my father’s plan._

_It’s May and we’re stuck in the mountains in a terrible storm. We found a place called Colter, which I guess means ~~are~~ our luck is turning around. It’s warm enough. People are starting to get antsy, though._

_Davey died. Got shot in the gut. Trying not to blame myself but it’s hard. I still don’t know if Jenny is alive. That feeling isn’t new._

_Hope to get out of this weather soon._

* * *

The first thing she draws in her new journal is young Jack sitting by the fire, with his mother sitting beside him. She’s not as talented as Arthur when it comes to drawing, but she’s not terrible. The proportions of Jack’s head to his body is a little off, and it was hard to bring the fire to life on paper, but other than that, she’s quite proud of it.

She’s always loved art, ever since she found Arthur scribbling into a journal one night after he and Dutch found her and brought her back to their camp. He’d let her sit on his knee as he showed her the drawings and sketches that he’d done on his travels; wild horses galloping across the plains, trains waiting for its passengers to board, the Blackwater saloon, a stranger sitting alone on a bench playing the jaw harp.

Eight-year-old Chloe had been amazed, asking twenty-six-year-old Arthur a million questions about each piece of art, and Arthur – ever so patient – answered every single one of them.

It took Chloe’s mind off of the fact that she had nobody but a bunch of outlaws, murderers, and thieves looking after her.

* * *

They bury Davey in the graveyard behind the abandoned church the next day, and Chloe finds herself feeling for Mac, who – if he’s still alive – has no idea that his brother is dead. She knows the feeling, though. She has no idea if Aubrey is alive, or Sean, or Josiah, or most of her friends, really.

She wants to pick some flowers to put near his grave, but the snow is almost up to her knees and the storm is still raging, and her father warned her not to go out until it eased up.

* * *

It doesn’t take long for Abigail to start worrying about John’s whereabouts. Dutch sent him out with Micah two days ago and he hasn’t been seen since. So, it doesn’t surprise Chloe when Abigail asks Arthur to go look for him. He’s always been the first person she goes to in an emergency.

He takes Javier along, and Chloe watches as they ride off, quickly disappearing into the fog and snow.

She turns to Abigail, sitting beside her on the small bed.

“He’ll be okay,” Chloe tells her, but Abigail doesn’t respond. Chloe sighs, turning to watch Jack. The four-year-old is flipping through a book, as Hosea tells him what the story is about. Uncle is asleep, as usual, and the rest of the women sans Miss Grimshaw are huddling for warmth, trying to talk down a crying Mrs. Adler.

Chloe reaches out to hold Abigail’s hand, but she doesn’t say anything else.

She smiles when she feels Abigail squeeze back.

* * *

The gang’s dynamic is strange, to say the least.

There are people that have been riding with Dutch for years, way before he and Annabelle adopted Chloe. Arthur, Hosea, Susan, Bill, John, and a few others who all helped bring Chloe up. Then there’s people who have only been with them a little while. Micah, Molly, Charles, and Emily.

There have been people that have come and gone. John left for a year, but came back to, supposedly, help Abigail raise Jack. There’s Josiah Trelawny, who they haven’t seen in months, though a while back, before the Blackwater disaster, Chloe and Arthur heard talk of a man that sounded just like Trelawny. They never really figured out if it was him or not, though, and it wasn’t long before her father had a lead on another job and they had to move out.

The nomadic lifestyle is fine and all, but sometimes Chloe wonders what it’d be like to live somewhere for more than a few months at a time. Somewhere permanent, where they can plant their own crops, where they have their own jobs, and she can decorate her own room just how she wants, without having to share a room with her father, or the other women in the camp.

Hosea has told her stories of a large city, Saint Denis, with huge farms and mansions, and a million things to do there. Huge theaters with live shows every night, and a market where people come to sell all kinds of things; handmade clothes, and fresh meat and fish, and stalls with jewelry that hasn’t been stolen off of dead outlaws, like the jewelry she owns right now.

If Chloe had a dream other than to just stay alive, it would be to move to a city like Saint Denis.

They sometimes pass large houses and beautiful homesteads on their travels, and she likes to imagine her life different to how it is now. She likes to imagine owning a house of her own, with a family of her own, and making friends around the area, and not having to worry about getting too close to people because of her family’s bad name.

Sure, she never adopted Dutch or Annabelle’s last name, but everybody knows who she is. Everybody knows the little orphan girl that Dutch Van Der Linde adopted in Strawberry ten years ago.

Her family was barely scraping by, having to scrounge for any food and money they could come across, thanks to her father’s gambling habit. It caused her mother so much stress, that she took her own life, and her father’s death followed just a few weeks later, after he was killed by bounty hunters for murdering a man over a lost bet.

Chloe was eight when it happened, but she still remembers the feeling in her stomach when she opened the door of their small home in Strawberry, to see a Sheriff standing there instead of her father. Arthur and Dutch had been planning to rob a millionaire that was staying in the hotel in Strawberry, when they’d come across Chloe shivering on the porch of her now empty home; no money, no food, no family.

She loves Dutch. He’s more of a father than anyone has ever been to her, but she can’t help but wonder where she’d be now if he hadn’t picked her up that evening.

* * *

Arthur and Javier bring John back a few hours later.

He has claw marks on his face that definitely need stitching up, and a wound on his leg that Chloe prays to God isn’t infected like the wound in Davey’s gut. She can’t lose anybody else right now, especially not her Uncle John.

She’s relieved to see that John in still able to walk, so she suspects that the wound on his leg isn’t as serious as she’d originally thought. Still, that doesn’t stop her from worrying as she and Abigail help him inside, sitting him down on the table and giving him some food that Pearson had made a couple hours ago.

“You stupid man,” Abigail tells him as she feeds him, but Chloe can feel the affection in her voice, and she finds herself hoping that one day she’ll find somebody who loves her like Abigail loves John.

That thought is fleeting, though, just like most thoughts nowadays. Emily is passing her a first aid kit and some vodka, asking her if she needs any help.

“No, it’s okay.” Chloe turns to John, reaching up to cup his face so she can see the cuts on his face. “You’re gonna need stitches,” she observes. “On your leg as well. What the hell happened?”

“Wolves,” John waves away the spoon that Abigail offers him. “Damn near almost got eaten to death. Then, damn near almost froze to death.”

“God, if you weren’t in such a state, I would kill you, John Marston!”

Chloe shakes her head with a soft laugh when John rolls his eyes at Abigail, before laying John down on the table so she can stitch him up.

* * *

Chloe shouldn’t be surprised to overhear her father talking to Arthur about another train robbery.

She hugs herself as she steps outside into the cold, towards her father who is currently stepping up onto his horse.

“Where are you going?”

“Just scoping out a place,” he tells her, patting his horse a few times. She reaches out to place a hand on the horse’s neck, and she can’t help but worry about them. The worst of the storm is over, and most of the horses are safe inside the stables, but that doesn’t stop Chloe from being scared for them. She can’t imagine how they’re feeling, being so overworked in such extreme weather.

“Is it another train job?”

He looks down at her, cheeks and nose pink due to the cold.

“Don’t worry about it, darling.”

She steps back as he leads the horse away from the hitching post, making his way around the group he’s taking along with him.

“Mr. Matthews, Mr. Smith, Mr. Pearson! Would you please look after the place, there are O’Driscoll’s about! Now, let’s ride!”

She watches as her father leaves, with Arthur, Javier, Bill, Micah, and Lenny following close behind.

* * *

Her father returns with one member missing, and Chloe’s stomach immediately fills with dread when she notices that Arthur isn’t with them.

“No,” she whispers, shaking her head as she bursts through the door into the cold. “What happened?!” she yells, and she’s not quite sure who she’s talking to, but it’s Micah who answers.

“We showed them bastards who’s boss, that’s what happened!”

She glares at him as he comes to a stop in front of her, looking down at her with that ratty, grimacing smile that Chloe has always hated.

“Smile for once in your life, will ya?”

“Leave her alone, Micah.”

She turns to her dad, approaching his horse like she did earlier.

“Dad, where’s Arthur?”

“He’s on his way back, don’t worry.”

She sighs in relief, helping him down from his horse. It’s only when he bends down to wipe the snow from his knees that Chloe sees the bullet hole in his hat.

“What the–”

He waves her hand away as she reaches up to take a closer look, before taking his hat off.

“We got into a little, uh… scrape.”

“ _Dad_ ,” she warns.

“I didn’t get hit. I ain’t dying yet, Chloe.” She shakes her head, punching him in the arm. She knows for a fact that it didn’t hurt, but Dutch winces anyway. “What was _that_ for?”

“For being _stupid_!”

He laughs, pulling her into a hug, and Chloe immediately relaxes.

* * *

“The… poor… cap- cap... Uh.”

Chloe looks over at the book, reading the line that Jack had got to since she last corrected his pronunciation of the word _terrified_. “Captain.” She tells him, sounding it out.

“Captain.” Jack repeats. “The poor captain r-raised… his eyes, and… at one look… the rum went out of him and left him… st-staring… sober.”

“That’s right, you got it.”

“The… What’s that word, Chloe?”

“Expression.”

“The… expression… of his face was not… so much of… terror… as of mot-mortal… sickness.”

She’s about to tell Jack that he’s doing a great job, when she hears the sound of horse’s footsteps outside. She immediately rushes to the window to look out of it, squinting her eyes as if it will help her see through the fog better.

The relief floods through her body at the sight of Arthur coming to a stop outside of the stables, and she watches her father step outside to greet him.

Their voices are muffled, but she can still hear them as they converse.

“Huh, you found the little shit, did ya?”

“Yeah. I got her.”

“It’s a _her_? Well…”

Chloe watches as Arthur pulls a writhing body down from his horse, and the person – the girl, Chloe notes – collapses onto the snow with a grunt.

“What’s her name?”

“Don’t know, she wouldn’t tell me.”

“Well, _O’Driscoll_ ,” her dad spits the name out, and it makes Chloe want to look away, as Arthur pulls her to stand up, making sure to keep her hands tied behind her back. “Welcome to your new home. I hope you’re _real_ happy here.”

“You want me to make her talk?”

“Oh no, not now. All we’ll get is lies. Tie her up someplace safe. We get her hungry, first.”

Chloe turns away, shaking her head. She doesn’t miss the scared, sympathetic look on Emily’s face as she sits back down beside Jack.

“Now, where were we?”

* * *

It’s easy to forget that they’re criminals.

Not that Chloe gets involved with the actual _crime_ part of it, but she figures, being Dutch’s daughter and all, that makes her a criminal too. Running from the law, accepting them home after train and bank robberies, sleeping among murderers and thieves, owning things that have been stolen; a necklace, her journal, her books. Chloe figures that’s enough to make her an outlaw.

But sometimes, it doesn’t feel as bad as it is.

Sometimes, Chloe looks around at this group – at her family – and she doesn’t see criminals. She sees a family. A huge one. She sees her father, smiling and dancing with Molly O’Shea. She sees her uncle Arthur, sitting up in his bed, writing in his journal. She sees Emily teaching young Jack how to play the harmonica, and she sees John and Abigail sitting close to each other, holding hands, loving one another.

It’s everything she’s ever wanted.

Before her parents’ deaths, she’d never had that. Her father was always out, either working, drinking, or gambling. Her mother was miserable, stuck inside twenty-four hours a day, with a young girl she never even wanted to begin with.

Maybe that’s why she gave up, Chloe wonders. Because she was living a life so fake that she couldn’t take it anymore.

* * *

When Arthur comes in to check on Sadie Adler a day after he brought in the prisoner, Chloe uses this as a way to find out more information. Her dad won’t tell her anything – to keep her safe, he keeps telling her – but Arthur has always had a soft spot for her.

“How’re you holding up, Mrs. Adler?”

She waits to the side, the sound of Reverend Swanson’s preaching drowning out Arthur and Sadie’s conversation.

When he finally makes his way over to Chloe, ready to ask her something, Chloe pulls him to the side by his thick jacket, away from the rest of the people in the cabin.

“Who’s the girl?”

“Wha, uh… what girl?”

“The girl you brought back yesterday.”

“Oh,” he laughs nervously. “Uh, it’s just some O’Driscoll we found on the way.”

“What happened out there?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he awkwardly pats her shoulder. “How’s the journal? You drawin’ anything?”

“You’re deflecting.”

“Am _not_.”

She fixes him with a look that tells him she’s not buying it, and he sighs, shaking his head and scratching his beard.

“Your dad just wants answers from her, that’s all. We’re not gonna hurt her.”

“But you’re gonna starve her and keep her locked up in a stable.”

“It is what it is.”

She sighs. She knows she shouldn’t be bothered about the fate of this girl. The leader of her gang murdered her adoptive mother in cold blood so if anything, she should want her dead.

Still, she can’t help but feel for her. Being locked up in a barn with no food or water, and with a bunch of scary looking men watching her every move. From what Chloe saw, she was only young. Maybe the same age as her. She was wearing a thick winter coat, but Chloe could see how petite she was. Chloe can’t imagine how scared she must feel.

“How are you doing, anyway?”

She worries her lip between her teeth, and her eyebrows furrow involuntarily. She’s stuck on a snowy mountain in the middle of May, where it’s two degrees out, and she hasn’t had a meal that isn’t rabbit stew in _days_.

“I’m fine,” she answers, almost on instinct.

“You know, Chloe,” Arthur sighs. “Your daddy cares about you. A lot.”

“I’m not a child, Arthur, you don’t have to remind me that my father loves me.”

“Hey, I’m just making sure you know.” His hands are held up in surrender, and Chloe immediately feels bad for snapping at him. It’s not his fault they’re up here in Ambarino, instead of camping out on the Great plains; that they’re up here fearing for their lives and barely surviving, instead of enjoying the spring.

“You’re right, I just… Yeah. I know. I know he loves me.”

“He’s just bad at showing it,” Arthur laughs. “Anyway,” he breathes out another sigh, “I’m gonna go check on Pearson, make sure he’s not overcooking the stew.”

* * *

It’s a few days later when the snow finally starts to thaw.

Arthur and Charles had gone hunting for some deer, and though Chloe’s not a fan of it, it was nice to eat something that wasn’t months old beans, or Pearson’s infamous rabbit stew.

The storm settled down yesterday, and when Chloe wakes up, she’s surprised to see actual sunlight shining through the window.

Emily and Jack are already looking out of the window in awe, gazing up at the dripping icicles hanging off of the cabin roof, and Chloe smiles when she sees how happy they both look. It’s been a long time since she’s seen real smiles in the camp.

“Good morning,” Chloe greets them, and Emily and Jack both turn around at the same time.

“It’s stopped snowing, Chloe!”

“It has?” She laughs when Jack rushes to her, crashing into her legs and lifting his arms up. She immediately picks him up, resting him on her hip as she approaches the window.

“He wants to make a snowman,” Emily says, smiling.

“Well, I’ve never made one before but I’m sure I could help you with that.”

She wakes Abigail up as Jack gets ready, telling her that she and Jack will be outside if she needs them. She sees the worry in Abigail’s face at the thought of Chloe taking her son out in the storm, before she stretches her head up to see for herself, that it’s no longer snowing.

“Alright, I’ll be out soon,” Abigail murmurs, before falling back asleep against John’s shoulder.

* * *

“Why are we doing this? The weather’s breaking, we could leave. I- I thought we was lying low?”

Chloe looks up at the sound of Hosea’s voice. Her gloved hand stays resting against the ball of snow, patting it a few more times before she stands up and makes her way over to the source of the noise.

“What do you want from me, Hosea?”

“I just don’t want any more folks to _die_ , Dutch.”

Chloe watches as her father slots his shotgun into the pocket on the saddle, before patting his horse a few times.

“We need money. _Everything_ we have is in Blackwater. You fancy heading back there?”

“No. Listen Dutch, I ain’t trying to undermine you, I just… I just want to stick to the plan, which was to lie low, then head back out west.” Hosea pauses, and Chloe watches her father clench his fists. “Now suddenly, we’re about to rob a train.”

“What choice have we got?” he asks, and Chloe can sense the agitation in his voice.

She doesn’t ask him why he has to do this. Not unlike the other times he’s left without telling her. She figures it’s no use trying to convince him that it’s a bad idea, especially not when he’s already stressed.

She goes back to where Jack is adding a couple rocks to the lump of snow.

“Look Chloe, I made his eyes!”

“That’s awesome, buddy!”

* * *

With her father, Arthur, Bill, Javier, Charles, and Lenny gone, Chloe figures that the only one left in charge of the O’Driscoll prisoner, is Uncle. And she figures that Uncle, being Uncle, is probably asleep, if she knows him well enough.

She waits until Abigail has woken up and had her usual cup of coffee before she makes her move, telling Abigail that she’s going to help Pearson with the stew.

As she guessed, Uncle is asleep when she sneaks into the barn.

She’s not sure what she expected, but the weak, exhausted looking girl currently tied to one of the posts next to a pile of dung isn’t it.

The girl doesn’t even notice she’s there until Chloe clears her throat.

“Hi,” Chloe greets her, not really knowing what to say now that she’s here. She’s not sure why she felt the need to visit her – and bring her some water – but there was something that reminded Chloe of herself. Now, looking at her, Chloe can see why.

“Are you thirsty?”

She makes sure to keep her voice low and her feet light as she makes her way over, pulling out a flask of water she’d taken from Pearson’s table. She doesn’t want Uncle to wake up and catch her being nice to their enemy.

The girl doesn’t answer her, but she does accept the rim of the bottle against her lips, lifting her head as Chloe feeds her some water. A little bit of the water dribbles down her chin, and Chloe pulls the flask away before wiping at her chin with her gloved hands.

“Are you okay?”

“What the _fuck_ do you think?”

“Shhh!” Chloe looks over at Uncle, but the old man only snorts before turning his head and drifting off again. She looks back at the girl, placing the cap back on the flask. “That was a stupid question, sorry.”

“Can you untie me?”

“I… No. I’m sorry, I can’t. My dad will kill me.”

“Your dad… which one is your dad? The bastard that brought me back?”

Chloe frowns, and she starts to wonder why the hell she came in here.

“No, that… Arthur’s not a bastard.”

“Tell that to my broken rib.”

“Your boss murdered my mom.”

The girl looks up with wide eyes, shaking her head. “No,” she whispers, “he’s not… I’m not one of them, I swear.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I don’t know! Please, let me go, I… I have a family.”

Chloe opens her mouth to speak, but the sound of shuffling outside the door pulls her up onto her feet, and she quickly hides behind the stacks of damp hay.

The door opens, and Chloe’s heartrate starts to pick up as the shuffling footsteps get closer.

“Uncle! Wake up, you lazy fool.”

“Oh, wh-I, uh–”

Hosea mimics him before the sound of wood being scraped across the floor echoes in the stable. Chloe holds her breath, dreading the thought of Hosea finding her and telling her father she was being nice to the prisoner.

“Pearson needs you, I’ll watch her.”

“Gladly,” Uncle sighs, struggling to stand up. “I’ve smelled enough horse shit to last me a lifetime in here. And surprisingly, I’m not talking about the girl.”

Chloe listens as the barn door opens and closes, and she’s shocked to hear Hosea ask, “are you thirsty?”

She wants to peak out, to see if the girl had accepted the drink Hosea offered, but it’s too risky. She can’t have anyone knowing she was in here, and she can only pray that the girl doesn’t tell anybody.

“What’s your name?”

Chloe listens intently.

“Beca. Beca Mitchell.”

“Right.” Hosea’s voice is soft, and Chloe knows that he doesn’t want to be doing this. He knows that it’s wrong, to keep someone, especially a woman, locked up in a barn with nothing to eat or drink. “We’ll be moving when Dutch and the others get back. I assure you, Miss Mitchell, as long as you do your best to cooperate with us, nothing bad will happen to you.”

Sometimes, Chloe wonders why Hosea is still here. He’s getting old. He can easily run away and start his own life somewhere. Somewhere where he isn’t constantly questioning his choices and morals; somewhere that’s safe, and away from all of this bullshit that Chloe’s dad seems to drag them into over and over again.

She guesses it’s because Hosea is her father’s best friend, and Chloe knows that he’s is aware of how dangerous Dutch can actually be.

Still, she hopes that one day he can escape all of this. It’s the least he deserves.

* * *

_The strangest thing happened._

_Arthur brought in an O’Driscoll prisoner. For some reason I feel for her, and I gave her some water because I couldn’t stand the thought of my father starving her when we don’t even know for sure if she is an O’Driscoll. Then Hosea came into the stable and gave her some water too. He managed to get her name: Beca Mitchell._

_I wonder if he’s finally beginning to move on. I know he’s doubting my father, after the Blackwater mess. Hosea and Arthur had their own lead, before Micah supposedly messed everything up. Surprise, surprise. Still don’t trust that guy. Though, my dad seems taken with him. Suppose I’ll have to deal with it._

* * *

The gang return with bearer bonds, and Chloe sees her father smile for the first time in what feels like months.

The carriages are no longer snowed in, so it doesn’t take long for them to get the horses ready and start packing everything up. Miss Grimshaw bosses everybody about, as usual, as Mr Pearson, Reverend Swanson, and Herr Strauss pack up the men’s quarters, while Chloe helps Emily and Tilly with Dutch and Arthur’s rooms.

Hosea is still a little hesitant on heading out so soon after robbing a train. A Leviticus Cornwall train, no less – though that doesn’t really mean much to Chloe. Still, he accepts that they’re leaving. He convinces Dutch that they should head to a place called Horseshoe Overlook, near a livestock town named Valentine, and it’s not long before they’re heading out.

Chloe just hopes this is the last stop before they find some place permanent, safe, secure. Some place where they won’t be hiding from the law, avoiding being hung, or running for their lives.

**Author's Note:**

> as usual i'm [chloebeale](http://chloebeale.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.
> 
> you can support my writing [here](https://ko-fi.com/M4M5ENJK)


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